This second failure resulted in the departure of James from Madrid, and the loss of Spanish help. But the two efforts had taught the British Government a lesson. Two things were necessary to subdue these turbulent Highlands, of whose inhabitants so little was known that they were generally believed by many English people to be savages and by some even cannibals. Roads were necessary to open the country up to organised military movements, and the disarmament of the clans was requisite to lessen the offensive power of their members. General Wade, in 1724, was entrusted with this duty, and about this time independent paid companies of Highlanders were formed, which, from the sombre colour of their tartans, were called the “Black Watch,” and were eventually formed into a regiment, numbered finally the 42nd.
To carry out his instructions, General Wade’s command (the 10th, 12th, 19th, and 21st Regiments) was reviewed by George I. on Salisbury Plain in 1722, and marched to Inverness, where they joined the camp formed by the 2nd Queen’s, commanded by Piercy Kirke. The 21st were quartered in Aberdeenshire, but the remainder marched to Brahan Castle to disarm the Mackenzies. No resistance was offered, but the whole thing was a transparent fraud; for but 784 old weapons were given up, and even then only with the stipulation that the companies of the Black Watch should not be present. Finally, in all 2685 weapons were collected, for which Wade calculated some £13,000 had been paid, “for broken and useless arms which were hardly worth the expense of carriage.” Meanwhile, the six Black Watch companies were detailed “to prevent the Highlanders from returning to the use of arms, as well as to hinder their committing depredations in the low country,” and for this purpose were stationed as follows:—Lord Lovat, the passes between Loch Alsh and Inverness; Colonel Grant, those from Ballindalloch to Dunkeld; Sir Duncan Campbell, from Dunkeld to the Lorn Mountains; while the remaining three companies were at Fort William, Kilcummin, and Ruthven.
Of course the best of the arms had been concealed and buried, to reappear twenty years later, when the Young Pretender came. Probably Wade guessed this, and was wise enough to close his eyes to what he was not strong enough to prevent or enforce. But he improved the communications of the country in an unostentatious way, so that a poem of the time in rather Hibernian style says—
“If you’d seen those roads before they were made,
You’d lift up your hands and bless General Wade.”
One curious thing happened between 1725 and 1745. Two years short of the last date, the newly formed regiment of the Black Watch mutinied.
The year 1745 saw the most serious as well as the last of the Jacobite efforts, and on this occasion France had returned to her first love, and posed for the last time as the friend of the Catholic dynasty of Stuarts. The tinge of romance about “the ’45” would have had little foundation if the Pretender of ’15 had taken part in the rising. He had got old, and, what was worse, fat. Only his divine right could have helped him through. But with his son it was different. He was young, good-looking, and engaging; he was always most affable and accessible; he was a brave if unfortunate princelet seeking to regain a throne. He does not seem to have had any real strength of character, and his end was pitiful; but he was in himself—and his cause was still more—romantic, and he possessed both dash and courage.
So, taking advantage of the absence of the bulk of the British army on the Continent, preparations were begun in 1743, when a French expedition of 15,000 was assembled at Boulogne to make a diversion on the south coast, while a landing of Stuart adherents was effected in the north. But the attempt failed, and the fleet was driven back by a storm.
In 1745 the attempt was repeated, and this time successfully; for though the Elizabeth frigate, convoying the Doutelle, in which the prince was embarked, was driven back by the Lion frigate of sixty guns, after a most determined battle, he was enabled to debark at Moidart, and establish a camp at Inverness. The loss of his convoy, however, had deprived him, so wrote Marchant in his History of the Present Rebellion, published two years later, of £400,000 sterling, besides arms, ammunition, and twenty field guns, all of which would have been of infinite value to him later, even if it had not materially influenced, or at the least prolonged, the insurrection itself.
Sir John Cope, who commanded in Scotland, was not a man of much quickness or resource; and the Jacobite song, “Hey, Johnny Cope, are ye waukin’ yet,” alludes sarcastically to that fact. Stirling and Edinburgh were garrisoned, it is true, and he had marched north to meet the insurgent levies, but when the latter outflanked him and reached Edinburgh, which surrendered at once (except the Castle garrison of two companies of the 47th), he embarked at Aberdeen and landed again near Dunbar. His total strength did not amount to more than 3000 men, all told, and among these were the 13th and 14th Light Dragoons, two companies of the 6th Foot, five of the 44th, eight of the 47th, the 46th, and Loudon’s Highlanders, with six guns manned by sailors and volunteers. His position, near Prestonpans or Gladsmuir, when the enemy came in sight, faced west and then south, and was fairly strong. The right rested on Colonel Gardiner’s house—he commanded the 13th, and fell in the battle—and the left on the Seton Manor House, while in front was a marsh traversed by a ditch. Against this small and not too confident army the prince had a heterogeneous half armed force of some 5000 men, chiefly Highlanders,[24] without artillery and but a few very irregular cavalry; and, hearing of the general’s landing, he moved out at once from Edinburgh, where the Castle still held out, to engage him. The first day was spent in mere manœuvring, but after nightfall the prince decided on attacking at daybreak, and, guided by a Mr. Robert Anderson, who knew the country, he marched in two columns in sections of threes by obscure paths across the marsh, and finally over an unguarded foot-bridge crossing the ditch already referred to, and formed line of battle across Cope’s left flank. That general seemed in no wise dismayed, and again changed front, while in his address to his troops he referred to his opponents as being “a parcel of brutes,” and “a despicable pack,” from whom “you can expect no booty.” He had not experienced the nature of a Highland charge.
The Scottish army was formed in two lines, and it is not clear in this instance that any firing was resorted to, as was often the case; but the fury of the onslaught was such as at once to destroy the morale of both the artillery and cavalry, who were on the flanks and fled in disorder from the field, leaving the infantry isolated. But though they held their ground for a while, they were assailed after their first volley before they could reload, and were taken prisoners, slain, or dispersed. All the colours, the guns, the military chest, 1500 prisoners, besides officers, and baggage, were the prizes of the victors, and while 400 were slain, only 175 infantry soldiers escaped; and this with a total loss of 110 killed and wounded on the opposite side. Practically, the victory gave the whole of Scotland into Jacobite hands, and the prince returned to Edinburgh, and wasted his time in continuing the siege of the Castle.